Chapter Text

Saitama and Genos still went along their days in perfect routine. Monsters and other deviants seemingly haven't shown themselves in, well, forever. All was too quiet, for a calm and stillness sprinkled over the city like the tingling sensation of watching falling snow.

Spring arrived though last week; lukewarm air and a couple sun rays drifted into the apartment. A very fine day indeed with no ominious-looking clouds in sight.

A manga and notebook laid about upon the table with equal interest from the man and cyborg respectively. Each day, the heros' ranks plummeted. Genos was no longer S-Rank but he found this to be unimportant, as did Saitama. He'd promptly burned the notices of their steady decline in the mail to ashes. Wasn't their fault if the city was so peaceful and flourishing. Besides, there was something else literally in front of him that held his passions far greater than some governmental status. He would not trade anything in the entire world for the welcoming quiet, contentful sighs, soft page turns, and scribblings of graphite upon paper.

Like a curious classmate in school, Saitama stole a few glances at the cyborg. The pooling light would decorate Genos' metal limbs as if he himself carried its power. Saitama smiled at this thought, as the sun was pretty much a ball of fire and flame - quite like Genos. Soon he became drunk in that light and warmth emanating before him.

The comic book did not exist.

Genos continued his writings of course; sketches of diagrams and recording logistics, hoping that they would be useful if he were to ever again engage in battle. Towards the back of his mind though, he secretly wished he wouldn't have a necessity for anything he'd ever written down. Across from him is all he'd ever need.

He still lived with the restless desperations for strength and revenge, but for the time being, those emotions had been muddled and locked away somewhere in-between the wires and inner workings of his shell.

He just wanted to live in the moment.

This is enough. This is all I truly want. Destruction can wait. This information can wait. Everything I have written can-

He stops thinking as a couple oil droplets spot the paper before him. Quickly wiping just underneath his eyes, he fears Saitama has seen.